The Tower
by DanAlaya
Summary: Altair has become obsessed with finding a way to bring about the ultimate goal of the Brotherhood. But at what cost does his obsession come with? And what does it take for him to finally realise the hurt he causes those whom he swore to guide, love and protect? Set during 1196, an interpretation of the events that lead up to Desmond's dream sequence in AC2. Alt/Mar all the way.
1. Chapter 1

_For Blissful Catatonia._

_Hope you feel better soon._

_Your friend, DanAlaya_

_**Disclaimer: I dont own Assassins Creed. Ubisoft does. I dont own Tahir, Nijma or any of the events from Crescent and the Cross referenced in this story. Blissful Catatonia does.**_

* * *

The door burst open into the small chamber, flooding the gloomy space with light and fresh air. Altair winced at the sudden intrusion, his focus moving away from the apple in his hand, a quill poised over the parchment. Malik came storming in, carrying a small whimpering bundle in his only arm.

"It is bad enough that the grandmaster locks himself away for days, leaving me to run the order, but I refuse to be a wet nurse to your son." He said, placing the child down on the desk, right on top of the parchment, trying to make clear his displeasure over the current situation.

"Why don't you take Darim to his mother. And Malik, you know how important the artefact is. The great advances it has meant for us. The order is perfectly safe in your capable hands for a few days. I just need a little while longer." Altair said, trying to dismiss the man and get back to studying the apple.

Malik stood still for a second, and unreadable expression flashing across his face.

"Altair, Maria left Masyaf two days ago." Malik said bluntly. Altair started to his feet violently, shocked at the news.

"What! I did not know this. Why, why did she leave?" Altair let his voice drop, clear menace heard behind his words.

"She told me that she had some urgent business. She came to speak to you a few days ago, and then went storming around the fortress preparing for her trip. Whatever you said to her put her in a foul mood Altair. She even left wearing her old Templar uniform." Malik retorted. He secretly knew the reasons for Maria's behaviour. But it wasn't his place to spell it out to Altair. Maria had made it very clear to him that she didn't want him involving himself with her business, even if she was taking care of other business at the same time. She was going to deal with Altair in her own way. Malik knew he had to give the grandmaster a bit of a push if she were to be successful in all her schemes.

"Maria never came to speak with me Malik. I would have..." Altair trailed off, frowning as a sudden tiny fragment of a memory flitted through his head. She had come to him one night. He was still working when she had slipped into this very room. But he didn't remember speaking to her, or even when she left.

Bending over, he picked up his son, noticing with irritation that the child had smudged all the ink on the page he had been writing. The amused quirk of Malik's lips told him that that had been the purpose of depositing the child in that spot. Darim contentedly squirmed in his arms, settling himself closer into his father's chest, a little hand gripping his robes as he fell asleep.

"Where did she go Malik? And why was she in her old uniform?" Altair said softly, not wishing to disturb the peace of his son.

Malik shrugged, tugging open the door. "I do not know Altair. I have received reports that she was heading south at a fast pace. I have notified the bureau leaders to send word as soon as she steps into a city. But after two days, I think we can safely rule out Homs and Damascus."

"Hmmm. So, more than likely she would be heading for either Jerusalem or Acre." The thoughtful tone of Altair pleased Malik. He sounded focused, and not on the damn apple for once. He watched the retreating form of Altair as he made his way to his chambers deep in thought.

* * *

The letter that Altair found when he reached the rooms he shared with Maria and Darim had his blood boiling in rage, and running cold with dread.

She had left him.  
Said she refused to idly stand by while he played with his mistress.  
Ashamed to be married to a man who ignored his own son and his duties to the brotherhood.

He was more than insulted at her words and deeds. To have left without so much as a word. To abandon her own son. And accuse him of adultery.

Without fully realising it, he found himself packing his saddle bags. How dare she acuse him of such things, and then just run away. He was going to hunt her down. Nothing was going to stop him, and there would be no place she could find to hide from him.

Throwing open the door to the rooms, he called for a novice.

"Ready my horse. And get Malik to meet me at the stables immediately" He ordered.

Returning to the rooms he took a moment just to stand and look. Evidence of Maria's presence was everywhere. From the two china tea cups that sat on one of the shelves to the bath that rested empty near the fire. Tapestries which she had hung on the wall, and the persian rugs she had furnished the floors with. Things he would never have himself, but possessions she had brought into their life. He could still make out her scent, and he suddenly felt the loneliness. Struggling to recall the last time he had spoken to her. Kissed her. Made love to her. He scrubbed a hand over his face, realising he had not shaved in days, his beard having grown long. She always hated it when he grew a beard. For a moment he contemplated shaving right then, but realised she had a two day head start, why waste the time.

Walking into the bedroom to retrieve a travelling cloak, he saw his old master assassin robes had been laid out on the bed, right where he would sleep. It was clean, repaired and neat. His throwing knives, syrian saber and short sword we all neatly laid out at the foot of the bed. Altair paused, wondering why Maria would have done such a thing. Whatever the reason, he knew he would be travelling fast and hard for several days. The light colour and tailored cut of his old robes would be better suited to the hunt. Wasting not a moment, he changed into his old robes, relishing the feel of strapping his weapons to his body. It only served to fuel his desire to find his errant wife.

Grabbing his saddle bag, he scooped a sleeping Darim up and silently stalked out of Masyaf. He knew Malik was not going to be happy about his leaving. The walk down the mountain side and through the village left him with plenty of time to think of a rousing argument. But as the stables came into view, he was left with nothing.

"What exactly do you think you are doing?" Malik stormed up to him.

"Leaving." Came Altairs terse reply as he shouldered past his friend, throwing the saddle bag over his mounts back.

"So, it is not enough that you neglect your duties to the brotherhood, but now you are actually leaving." Malik growled at Altair, fuming at his actions. Rounding on his brother, Altair grabbed a fistful of Maliks robes, and pulled him close, minding that he did not jostle Darim.

"She accused me of adultery and left. I want to know why she would believe such a lie. I am going to find her, and bring her back, and there is nothing you can do to stop me. In fact, you are going to help. I will stop at every bureau between here and Jerusalem, and I expect to have a pigeon message already there telling me whether or not Maria has been sighted and where. I also expect you to take care of the order until I return. And lastly, I expect you to take care of Darim." Altair spoke in a calm, level voice that belied the current of strong emotions running just below the calm facade. Gently thrusting Darim into Malik's arm, he quickly stepped away, and jumped on his horse, the stable boy darting away as the feisty stallion pranced under his rider.

"And Malik. If one hair on his head is harmed, you will answer to both myself and Maria. Don't forget, she is a very exacting woman." And with the warning hanging in the air, Altair spurred his horse on into the darkness.

* * *

The travelling calmed Altair. He found himself centered. The methodical way the horse ate up the miles. The simplicity of setting up camp and trading for food. The normalcy of checking in with each bureau. Four days into the trip, he received word that Maria had been spotted in Acre. The news spurred him on, and he rode non-stop to Acre, arriving a day later. Leaving his tired horse in the care of the cities stables, Altair blended in with a group of scholars entering the city. The guards seemed lax, but it wouldnt call to bring undue attention to himself by trying to enter the city any other way.

It felt good to walk the streets of a city again. Although he wished Maria had chosen to visit Jerusalem or Damascus rather than Acre. The pitiful beggars, and austere architecture of the christians made the place grey and depressing. It was a broken city, stinking and falling apart.

Altair slowly made his way to the bureau, making his way through the citizens of the city. Listening in on their conversations. Hearing their worries, their plans, their causes for celebration. He had missed this. It reminded him of simpler times, when all he had to worry about was sparring sessions and finding out where targets were going to be. He remembered how he had looked down on being made a novice again. He had never appreciated the fulfilling type of work it was until it was too late. Reaching the bureau and climbing the ladder he pondered when his life had become so complicated.

"Safety and peace." He greeted the Rafiq.

"And upon you grandmaster. I hope your journey went well. I had received word that you would be arriving tomorrow." Jabal returned the greeting.

"I wished to make all haste." Altair cut the Rafiq off, wishing to get onto more pressing matters. "Now, please tell me. What do you know about the movements of Maria?"

Jabal nodded, opening up a large ledger on his desk. He had careful notes on the english woman, stemming right from the days she was Robert de Sable seneschal. It charted her progression from a puppet to the Templars, ignorant of their designs, to a fully enlightened advocater and fighter of peace. That was until she arrived, brazenly wearing the Templar colours. Malik had sent a bird to warn him of her arrival, but had not mentioned anything more. That woman was trouble. He had known it all along. And a disgrace to her sex. Not that he wished to give voice to his opinions. The grandmaster looked as he were spoiling for trouble, so he kept to the bare facts. "She has been sighted in both the middle and rich districts. But we have tracked her back to where she is residing. She continues to wear the uniform of the templars, but she appears to avoid soldiers. The assassin who watches the citadel has not seen her approach it, but it is not the only way to communicate with those dogs. As for where you can find her. The 5th rank assassin Rashid overheard that she will be at the harbour tomorrow at midday." Jabal finished, raising his head from the book. He made no other comment or movement, but Altair noted the white feather laying on the page, but resolutely ignored it. He knew Jabal had never approved of Maria, but the feather was a step too close to the mark. As of yet, Maria had done nothing deserving of death.

"Very well." Altair could think of nothing else to say. He felt frustrated at the lack of information. He did not want to wait until tomorrow. He needed to find her now. Turning, he swiftly left the stuffy atmosphere of the bureau. The sun was already setting, casting long shadows. Impatient to find Maria, he took to the roof tops. Aimlessly running over buildings. Trying to catch a glimpse of her. The moon rose to its highest point before he admitted defeat. Where ever she was, he was not going to find her tonight.

The return to the bureau was painful. He knew what the assassins there would be thinking. How fit was he to be grandmaster of the assassins when he could not even keep track of his own wife. He, that had fallen in love with a British woman no less, a woman who shunned what was natural for her, instead taking up arms and dressing as a man. A woman who worked for the Templars. Many of his brothers had been very unhappy when he took her as his wife. Before that, there had been those who were vocal in their distrust, Abbas being the most vocal. Even the healers had objected to her presence when Tahir brought her back from Homs, injured and unconscious. But he knew her better. At least, he thought he had known her better.

The bureau was quiet and dark when he dropped in. He was grateful for this. Silently, he moved past the sleeping form of an assassin curled up on the pillows, and made his way into the main office. The only illumination came from a small night candle burning slowly on the desk. It illuminated a small cloth covered plate, and his stomach growled at the thought of food. Quietly he attacked the plate of dried meat and bread. He saved the fresh figs till last, wondering whether or not the Rafiq knew they were his favourite or it was just coincidence.  
He remembered Maria often buying them for him. A smile came to his lips when he remembered the picnic she had once prepared. Dragging him out to the gardens and pulling out a meal very much like this one. He hasn't cared that she couldn't cook. Or had thought it more appropriate to bring more weaponry than eating utensils to a picnic. It made him want her even more. And after they had satisfied their hunger for food, they had satisfied their hunger for each other.

He wished he could go back to that moment. Hold onto her forever.

Altair returned to the outer room, and dropped himself onto a cushion, his back resting against a wall. The pigeons made soft noises in their coop, lulling Altair into slumber. He dreamt of Maria. She was so close, but he couldn't see her properly. Just an outline of a shadow. He could catch her scent on the breeze as he chased her over the roof tops. But never could he catch her. Slowly, the dream faded to black.

* * *

Maria crouched down looking at him. She gently ran a finger along his jaw, secretly pleased that he had shaved off that terrible long beard he had worn before she left Masyaf. It was risky being so close, and she was careful not to wake him. But they had been apart too long. She had keenly missed his presence. It fueled her anger against him. But in this quiet moment, all she secretly wished was that he would awake and hold her.

She felt the presence of the Rafiq behind her, and motioned for quiet as she quickly rose to her feet. Leading him back into the depths of the bureau, she lowered her voice so as not to wake her sleeping husband.

"Do you have the letter?" She kept her voice low, so as not to wake her sleeping husband. Jabal nodded passing it over to her.  
"How do you intend on getting it into the orders before Richard gives it to the courier tomorrow? Surely you are not going to infiltrate the fortress this early in the morning. It will take too long"

Maria shook her head. "I have no need. I only need to pass the letter to the courier before he boards the vessel at noon. My old uniform, and the seal on the letter will ensure he takes it without question." She ran her fingers over the wax seal, smugly smiling to herself. It was her forethought and ingenuity which had gotten them this far. Her old Templar uniform and seals were coming in useful.

"What about the Grandmaster? He knows you will be there, he will be at the docks waiting for you."

"Did he take the feather?" She asked. Jabal shook his head. He had wondered why Maria had asked him to prepare a white feather in her file, but had not questioned her judgement. If she wished to sign her own death warrant, then so be it. But Altair had not taken the feather. "Then I can only assume he will not slaughter me in cold blood. If he does attack, I am sure he will be focused on me, and not the courier. In fact, it will make the whole thing more believable for the courier. An assassin attacking a Templar who has just given over a very important letter. He will be on that ship faster than lightning. I on the other hand can take care of Altair." She shot Jabal a wicked smile. He had heard the gossip, and with his own eyes seen her spar with some men. He knew her words to be true, but hoped for her sake that Altair was no longer the cold blooded killer he was 6 years ago. That he could have restraint when confronting the mother of his child.

"Dawn is approaching. I do not wish to be here when he wakes." She took one last look at Altair. She loved him, she knew that. But he had wronged her and her brothers. She wouldn't sway from her chosen course of action.

"Safety and peace." The Rafiq bid her farewell as she slipped out of the bureau.

* * *

The harbour was alive with activity. The sun had risen to its zenith, and Altair watched the mass of humanity and commerce below him. Perched on a tower so he could take in as much of the scene as possible. It had the added benefit that the stench of the streets below didn't seem to reach this high.  
He had carefully scouted the area. Tried to predict where she would go. He had a theory it had something to do with the packet ship which was due to leave midday, bound for England in the service of the crusades.  
He would stop her. He could not believe that she had returned to the Templars. Not after all they had done to her. And especially after what she had seen them do. He would not believe she would go back to them. He concluded that she was running away, back to her homeland. The thought held little water, and he knew it. She never had any desire to return to that country, nor would she be welcomed back.

He lazily watched a courier stride down towards one of the docks. He seemed to be heading for the packet ship. Altair glanced up at the sun, well aware that with each second, noon was passing away. Impatient, he let his eyes glaze over, and his special vision changed his view of the world.

Suddenly, a flash of gold appeared in his vision. Running, weaving in and out of the ordinary people. He pushed the vision away, and tried to make out who the person was. A vice clenched his heart as he saw it to be Maria. It was if she were physically driving a blade through his chest. Dressed head to toe in her Templar uniform and weapons, she was not even carrying the short sword he had had made specially for her.  
When he watched her catch up with the courier and pass him a sealed letter, a letter that had the markings of the Teutonic Templars clearly visible from this distance, anger and betrayal flooded through his body, one side of his face pulled up in a snarl.

It was her final act that made him lose control. She turned, and looked straight at him. Holding her chin defiantly, goading him. Even at that distance, he could see the confident smirk she wore as her eyes bored into his.

A coldness swept through Altair's veins. She had betrayed him, abandoned their son, foresaken the brotherhood, and now had the audacity to taunt him. He felt the hurt and anger morph into something more. Something uncontrollable. Something black and terrible.

He swan dived off the tower.  
Nothing was going to save her now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I dont own Assassins Creed or the OC's Tahir and Nijma.**

* * *

He approached her slowly and cautiously. She had not moved from the spot on the wooden dock where she had passed over the letter to the courier. She just stood, tall and proud. Her black cloak rippling in the breeze. The red cross mocking him. Her eyes were hard, and her jaw was set. He kept coming, stalking closer, but she made no move either to escape or draw a weapon.

"So, I see the high and mighty grandmaster of the _hashashins_ has ordained to leave his private study and quiet sanctuary to walk among the lowly people." She heckled him, loud enough to be heard by everyone around. He kept silent, pushing forward through the crowd. "I wonder if you brought your mistress with you. I bet you couldn't bare the thought of facing your own wife without the soft tones of that whore caressing your ear with her sweet sayings. ibn iš-šarmuuTa!" She spat the insult at him, venom dripping from her voice. The arabic insult which she had almost yelled at him had people moving away from her, gossiping in hushed tones. Leaving her in the open, exposed to the on coming assassin. He words hurt Altair deeply, especially as he knew they were a lie. He would not touch or look at another woman. But he was not about to show his feelings. Especially to her, not now, not after she had betrayed the brotherhood.

"So says the traitor." He said it slowly, deliberately, standing before her, letting his hood shadow his face. She merely snorted at his accusation before replying. "kuss ummak Altair." Altair slapped her hard. The sound seemed to be louder than physically possible. Maria slowly turned her head back to him. He could see the imprint his gloved hand had left on her cheek. Neither moved for a beat. It was as if they were frozen in place for a second. Then the spell snapped. Almost as one, they both stepped back, drawing the swords that hung on their hips.

The fight was fast and furious. The clash of metal reverberated over the water, the sun reflecting off the shine of the metal. Maria drew first blood, her blade catching Altairs thigh. No word passed between them, nor did they slow down. Despite his wound, Altair continued pressing his assault on Maria, slowly driving her down the dock. By this time, they were the only people left in the area, the citizens having run off screaming to hide, fearing for their own lives. The crew on the packet ship at the end of the dock were hastily making to shove off. The courier stood at the rail and watched the sword fight, praying that the woman would be able to hold the assassin off long enough to make sure he escaped. He didn't care if she died, as long as he got out with his own skin.

Altair watched his own wife put everything she had into getting through his defences. She was driven by anger, just as she had been all those years ago when she had attacked him for killing De Sable. Back then she had accused him of taking her soul, destroying her life. But he was at the advantage, just as he had been back then, and he knew that he was slowly wearing her down. Her step faltered on the uneven planks of the dock, and he saw his opening. Lunging forward he tangled his blade with hers, whipping it out of her hand. It clattered to the deck, before rolling off and splashing into the water. He lunged forward again and watched her trip and fall backward, completely exposed to his blade. He saw fear flash over her features, if only for a second, but it was there. He started to bring his blade down upon her, and instead of rolling away as he had expected she would, Maria struck out with her foot. He winced in pain as the hard leather of the sole connected with his wrist. His hand automatically opened, and his sword joined hers at the bottom of the sea.  
In a flash she had hurled herself at him, kicking out his knees so that he would fall on his back. Altair went down hard as Maria straddled his chest, pinning down his arms.

"You never even realised I was gone." She yelled at him. "It had to be Malik who told you. Not once in those two days did you leave your private study. Not once. Not even to check on your own son. Or your brothers. ya gazma yibn ig-gazma!" Maria's fingers were digging in painfully to his biceps, but Altair ignored it. Struggling slightly to find her weak spots, but not really trying to escape her hold. He wanted to hear her speak. Wanted to try and understand what she was raving on about, hoped she could be saved.  
"You were too busy with your whore to care about anything. Did you know Nijma had been injured? Or that Tahir had uncovered a plot to attack Masyaf? No, because you are just too self absorbed with what you think is so bloody important. Maybe you would have liked to have been around when Darim spoke his first word. But no, you missed it because you were too busy playing with you whore."  
Altair had had enough. Bucking his his body, he reversed positions with Maria. With a slick click, he unleashed his hidden blade and pressed it against her throat.

"And there he is. The assassin I remember. Four times you have had your hidden blade to my throat. Are you going to kill me like you should have done on those previous occasions?" Altair noted that the heat had gone out of her voice. Her voice held a finality about it, a grim expectation. And although she gripped his wrist, she was making no move to push the blade away.

"I have not been unfaithful to you. I would never take another woman." He growled down at her. Anger flashed through her eyes again.

"kaddaab!" She spat at him.

"I am not lying." He ground out, pressing the blade tighter to her skin, a thin line of blood appearing on her neck.

"You lock yourself away for weeks at a time. You ignore everyone and everything. You derelict your duties as grandmaster. And I am left discarded by the wayside, surrounded by many who still do not trust me. Your son may as well be fatherless. So yes. I do accuse you of infidelity. And you know what, it would be a lot easier if it were a woman. I could just kill her, but no. You chose that damn apple over me, your son and the brotherhood." The fire was back, and he could feel her pressing her own neck against his blade. Disconcerted by this and her verbal attack, he sheathed the blade.

"Woman, you know not of what you speak. The study of the apple has greatly advanced the brotherhood" He reasoned with her. She had seen first hand how the knowledge of the apple had improved their lives. Why could she not understand that it needed to be studied?

"At What Cost?" She screamed at him struggling under his weight. "Darim's first word was mama. Would you like to know what his second word is? He spoke it for the first time last week. It should have been baba. Go on, guess what it is." Altair could feel the venom seeping from her words. And although he was the one pinning her down, he knew that he was the one who was being assaulted. "Yeah, you just have no idea do you. Well, let me enlighten you since you crave knowledge so much. He said Maic." He felt his brow crease with confusion, not understanding her words. "Your own son calls for Malik before he calls for you." She punctuated each word as if slapping him around the face with each syllable. He sat back stunned at what she had said.

Using his distraction and his shift in weight, Maria shoved him off her. Scrambling to stand up, she let her feet fly at him, trying to kick him in the face. He quickly rolled out if the way, and jumped back on his feet, but found that Maria had turned to flee over the small boats that littered the the harbour. He propelled himself forward, leaping after her. She was unsteady on the moving little boats and he quickly caught her up. Grabbing the back of her tunic, he yanked her backwards into his chest, wrapping an arm around her throat. His other arm snaking around her waist to restrain her arms. Maria struggled against his grip, violently rocking the small boat they were on. Increasing the pressure on her throat, he bent his head towards her ear.

"None of that explains why you would betray me and the brotherhood. Whatever you are to me, and to my son, I cannot allow you to live. Not after you have aided the Templars." He had hoped his words would still her fight. That she would plead with him. Offer some sort of apology, repentance. Instead, a strangled laugh reached his ears. He closed his eyes, the pain of what he was about to do tearing his heart apart. He would be merciful, and just break her neck. She would feel no pain, it would be his to bear alone. She pushed her head against his shoulder, trying to look up and address his face.

"I never betrayed the brotherhood. But you have been too blind to see it. Even now, you are not listening or thinking."  
Altair growled at her cryptic words. He kicked out her knees, leaving him supporting her by her neck. She struggled to regain her feet and breathe, clutching his arm.

"Explain yourself woman" he snapped at her.

"Tahir and Rashid discovered that the Templars were going to mount another assault on Masyaf. They had already sent orders to build the forces. It would have only taken them 6 months before they were burning down the gates of Masyaf. So, I had the Jabal forge a letter from King Richard, re-deploying the troops that were bound for Masyaf into his force bound south for Arsuf. They needed the old seals I still carry to seal the letter to make it look authentic. And you saw me with your own eyes delivering that misinformation to save Masyaf and my brothers. And what were you doing, oh great and wise grandmaster?"

Altairs blood ran cold with the thought of what he had been prepared to do to her. He was going to kill her for protecting everything he held dear. She had taken responsibility for something he should have known about and should have been the one directing the action.

Too late he realised that he had loosened his grip on her arms. She twisted sideways, burying an elbow in his stomach. He let her go, gasping for air.

"Maria, please, I am sorry. I didn't know." He felt himself begging. She turned to face him with a disgusted look on her face.

"Oh, so you are sorry are you. Sorry for what? Neglecting your brothers and responsibilities? Ignoring your son? Accusing your wife of treachery? It's going to take more than sorry to make up for your misdeeds." She stood tall and proud, condemning him for his mistakes.

"Everything. I am sorry for being so consumed. I will make it right. I promise you, I will make it right. Take proper control of the order. Guide and lead the assassins, just as I had spoken to you about." He took a step towards her but she just moved back, keeping distance between them. "I promise to be the father to Darim that he deserves to have. I will spend time with him every day, I promise"

"And what about me? This is not the first time you have forgotten me. I believe it was at this precise harbour that you once forgot I was accompanying you. You abandoned me. Silently slipped away without one single thought about me. Back then that hurt me, and I didn't even really know you." She stepped closer to him, jabbing a finger in his chest. "You have already promised that you would never abandon me, and I made that same promise. For better or worse. And yet, barely not even two years later this is what happens. You haven't even slept in our bed for the last month." She stepped away, back handing him sharply He let her, at that moment he would have let her do anything to him. He felt numb, and guilty. The apple had distracted him, Altair knew as much. But he thought he had only spent a few days studying it. Surely a whole month could not have passed him by without his knowledge. No wonder Malik had been so scathing, he had shirked his duties without so much as an apology.  
She looked as if she were about to say more, but instead turned and continued running. Altair bounded after her, determined to catch her. Her words echoed through his mind.  
Skipping over the boats in the harbour, he ran after Maria. Pushing himself hard to out pace her. She was fast, and the fight and injury to his leg had worn him out. He was beginning to feel the effects of a month where he had not trained. But he was not going to lose her. He felt triumphant when he cornered her. The boats and poles ran out. An expanse of open water separating them from the stone sides of the sea wall. She spun on her heel to face him, panting slightly, he could see the hurt in her eyes. The anger had gone, and now it was just hurt he saw.

"I am truly sorry Maria. I have no excuse. I have made a mistake. Please. I love you habiti. There would not be a single place on this earth where I would not chase you just to be close to you. "

She stared at him, obviously thinking hard. Raising her chin, she defiantly threw down a challenge. "Prove it." And without waiting for a response, she turned and dived off the little boat into the water. Altair rushed forward, cursing her under his breath. She knew it was the one thing he struggled to do. He watched as she swam the distance and hauled herself out onto the dock side, dripping water everywhere.

"So, what's it going to be Assassin?" She mocked him over the water. He growled in frustration, his lip twitching in a snarl when he saw the triumphant amusement on her face. He couldn't swim the distance, and he knew that she would be long gone by the time he ran around the long way. Realising there was only one option open to him, he turned his back on her, racing across the harbour as fast as he could. In the 30 seconds it took him, Maria had disappeared. Jogging to the spot he last saw her, Altair scouted around. A sly grin spread across his face. She may have left, but the wet drips and footprints clearly showed which way she went.

Altair chased Maria right across the city. She never lost him, but he never seemed to gain on her. Gradually, the footprints and wet drips stopped, her clothes having dried in the chase. He took to the rooftops, trying to catch sight of her in the distance. Every now and then, he would see a flash of gold, but she was quickly gone again.  
Altair pondered whether or not she would return to the rooms she had shared with Robert, for they were close by. But he knew she had laid that ghost to rest a long time ago. He had made sure of that.  
Thinking of Robert made him realise how stupid he had been. Of course she would never be content with being barefoot and domestic. This was Maria Thorpe, the woman who had disguised herself as a man for 8 years in the English Kings army. Who had been second to the grandmaster of the Templars. Had fought in battles and lead armies. Who, even now, continued fighting for what she thought was right.

His eyes lighted on the tower of the Acre Fortress. He remembered how much she had wanted to escape to that place. How it was special to her. It had to be where she was headed.

Jumping down to the streets, he quickly made his way to the main gates of the fortress. None of the Crusader guards seemed to pay him any attention, strolling forward to the main gate, he took his time at scouting out what was going on. The number of guards was high, but for once, none of them were paying any attention to him. Suddenly, a flash of gold grabbed his attention. Maria was standing at the main gate to the fortress. She spotted him, and immediately dashed off into the fortress.  
Throwing caution to the wind, he flew after her, blasting past the guards, who surprisingly gave no chase or shout of alarm. Ignoring the oddity, he ran into the fortress, spotting Maria climbing a ladder. While climbing he looked up, and saw Maria's feet disappearing over the edge. Climbing up after her, he was surprised to find that she had waited for him. Obviously it was not her intention to lose him. Pulling himself onto the roof, he decided he would let her lead him to whatever destination she had in mind. He was no longer hunting her, but she was leading him. Ignoring the guards who in turned seemed to be ignoring them, he jogged after Maria, jumping the gaps between buildings, and barreling along tiled roofs. When she climbed onto the ramparts, he saw her peek over the edge. Although her hood was up, shadowing most of her face, he saw a corner of a lip quirk when she spotted him so close behind her. She sprinted as fast as she could to the tower at the end of the rampart, her black cloak streaming out behind her. She slammed and locked the door behind her, and Altair smiled at her play. She knew as well as he did that it was only a small obstacle for him to climb the tower. Knowing that she would be waiting for him at the top, he climbed as fast as he could. The wind started whipping at his robes the higher he got, but it did not matter.

Finally hauling himself onto the top of the tower, he paused. She stood looking out over the sea. Now that he was here, he didn't quite know what to do. Only that he wanted to make amends. Jumping down onto the floor of the tower, he offered his apology.

"I am sorry Maria."

She slowly raised her hands to her hood, slipping it off her head, turning to face him.

"I need you. Please forgive me." He whispered, watching her lips tug up into a small smile. His heart soared when she beckoned him over. Striding over, he slipped his hands around her waist, pulling her body against his. Her hands reached up, tugging his head down to hers so that she could kiss him.

She kissed him with the passion he knew she always possessed for everything she had. Once her mind was made up, come hell or high water, nothing could change it. In that instant, he knew she would never leave him. Her hunger for him told him how committed she was. But he had a long way to go to earn her full forgiveness. But he would earn it.

"I will love you forever." He murmured against her skin as he gently lowered her to the straw, determined to show her right now how much he truly cared for her.

* * *

_**A/N**_  
_**This is my interpretation of the events that lead up to Sef's conception. The quite frankly very odd dream Desmond had in AC2. I had been playing around with the idea for a while, and I know there are a few holes, but I am happy with how the story has turned out.**_

_**I hope you enjoyed it. Please leave a review. It would make my day. **_

_**I would also like to point you in the direction of the story The Crescent and the Cross. Some of the events and characters I referenced are from that story. And if you liked this short fic, then you are just gonna love The Crescent and The Cross. s/8252325/1/**_

_**Arabic Translations:**_

_**ibn iš-šarmuuTa - son of a whore**_  
_**kuss ummak - Your mother's cunt; the equivalent of "Fuck you," except worse.**_  
_**ya gazma yibn ig-gazma - You son of a shoe. Shoes are associated with dirt and connote impurity and degredation**_  
_**kaddaab - liar**_


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